Breath
by JadeCrescent Fallen
Summary: Five years after Lucifer won the battle against Michael, Dean is struggling to stay sane in a broken world. However, he is still haunted by the memories of Lucifer's punishment, and the people who were hurt because of it. One-Shot. Spoilers through Season Five. M/M. Lucifer-Sam/Dean, Lucifer-Sam/Castiel, Dean/Castiel. NonCon.


**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Supernatural**_**.**

**Slight AU warning.**

_**Italicized lines indicate thoughts**_.

**Bold lines indicate flashbacks.**

**Spoilers up to Season 6.**

**Thanks to Eric Kripke for creating such a wonderful show.**

**Thanks to the actors for their stellar work.**

** X - X**

**BREATH**

"**You'll never see him again."**

**Lucifer's words echoed through Dean's mind like a hideous symphony. His breath nearly failed him upon seeing the cold glare of the Devil through his brother's once-gentle olivine eyes. They stared at each other for what felt like years, though only moments had passed. A sickening grin spread across Sam's soft features, distorting his image into something beyond monstrous. Dean grew ill looking at him.**

"**Sam…" the older Winchester managed to choke out weakly. Hell's worst torture was but an ant to the pain he felt now.**

"**Ah ah ah," Sam remarked, waving his finger with a smirk, "you're speaking to the wrong person. Please, Dean, get it right."**

**Bobby had a gun on him, but for the first time—at least, the first time Dean had ever seen him—he was shaking. Castiel stood next to him, jaw jutted out as he was warrant to do, clearly conflicted on what to do. Sam turned to Bobby.**

"**Are you truly going to shoot me? You'd be wise not to anger the Devil, **_**boy**_**. I'm already showing my mercy by letting you all live," he said, a distorted giggle escaping his lips.**

"**Shut up and just kill me!" Dean shouted, unable to stand from the pressure of his misery. He sunk to his knees, tearing up. "Please, Lucifer, just kill me."**

**Sam shook his head. "Dearest Dean…you think I would allow Michael's reject to die? Oh, no no no. That would not do. You—all three of you—shall stay alive. You shall watch the world burn underneath me. You will grovel in the ashes, begging for death, and I will lift you up and say…no. I want you to witness my reign. I need men like you to be around, men who understand the full capability of my power." He walked over to Dean and sunk to his level. He stroked Dean's hair lovingly. "If you try to kill yourselves, don't think I won't find you."**

**Suddenly, he grabbed Dean's face and yanked it up, forcing Dean to stare into the dead eyes of his younger brother. "Today begins the first day of the rest of your miserable little lives."**

**X - X**

Dean sat up in bed, gasping for air. The night's cool breeze floated gently through the window, bringing in the scent of birch and soil to blanket the room. The cabin creaked, as it usually did in the dead of night against the shifting wind. Most people would be disturbed by the eerie cracking of the wood, but Dean and Bobby had gotten used to it. It was pleasant to have the sound of _something _to break the perpetual silence.

Dean clutched his blanket close to him, as a child would, and observed his surroundings, paranoid. The small, cluttered cabin was full of books, weapons, and instant ramen packets that were haphazardly scattered around the floor. Across the sea of half-burned texts, Bobby snored quietly in his own bed, clutching an axe like it was a pillow. Candles flickered on the makeshift crate-tables. A refrigerator sat in the corner, with empty beer bottles littering the space around it. Salt was lined in the walls to prevent passage from certain dark beings. The windows were plastered with wards from all cultures, religions, and creeds, some having just been recently invented for protection against Disciples—demons, humans, creatures, or angels who were hand-picked for Satan's army. Five years may have passed since that fateful day, but the world had not been destroyed. Not yet, at least.

Forcing himself out of bed, Dean crossed over to the open window and peeked outside. No Croatoans, not from what he could see. A cricket jumped onto the sill, nearly causing Dean to pull out his pistol in surprise. It chirped and rubbed its hands together, its antennae pulsing back and forth. Dean watched it with a small smile. Hearing the sounds of nature was one of the calmer things in the world these days. So often, peaceful noise was drowned out by the wails of the infected or the tortured, and the music of gun battles.

Bobby grunted in his sleep and rolled over. Dean was grateful that he was still alive. He had lost an eye about a year back to shrapnel after accidentally stumbling into a vampire nest that was rigged to blow by a local army. To their benefit, they had just happened to have lured a bunch of high-ranking Disciples into the place with the intent to kill. The plan succeeded; Bobby barely escaped with his head intact.

Feeling sweaty, Dean went over to the fridge and opened it, pulling out a cold beer that he had won in underground poker. Sure, he had lost almost ten pounds of salt in exchange for it, but sometimes he wondered if the beer was worth more. He was lucky to have cold beer in the first place—the fridge wasn't on. They had no electricity. Instead, they had power from a yuki-onna they had run into in the frozen tundra of San Antonio. She had been injured by a Disciple, and in exchange for her help in killing it, she gave them some of her power in talisman form. That very talisman lay in the fridge, restoring the broken box to its original function.

Dean headed into the other room of the cabin, which was furnished with half-rotten cupboards and a large couch. Demon traps lay all over the room, covered by maps, books, porn, and cereal boxes. Throwing himself onto the couch, Dean popped open the beer bottle and took a swig, his parched throat accepting the pleasant burn of the alcohol. He closed his eyes for a moment. He needed to calm his racing mind. The image of Sam repeated in his brain.

He had seen Sam about a year ago in (what had been) Weeping Water, Nebraska, when he and Castiel had set out on a food run that went sour quickly. Disciples had turned it into a training camp, and Croatoan had raided the food supply, rendering all consumables infected. Castiel had insisted they remain there so he could find some way to disinfect the food, but had been discovered and attacked by angel Disciples. Dean went to save Castiel, and ran straight into Sam.

**Castiel shook his head in anger, spitting blood out of his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut. "You shouldn't have come for me," he spoke in his usual deep monotone.**

**Sam had Dean by the throat. The Devil cocked his head to the side, almost curiously. "Why are you here?" he wondered out loud. "I thought you were holed up in a cave outside of Lexington."**

**The Disciples who were guarding Castiel had snapped to attention, eyeing their master with awe and confusion. Clearly, they wanted to know why Lucifer had decided to show up to **_**their **_**training camp of all places, but they knew better than to ask when he was with his favorite pet. Castiel took this distraction as a moment to try and escape, but one of the angels stuck his hand out and burned Castiel with nails made from angel sword material. He screamed and fell back into the post where he was tied to, a few bloody feathers stamped into the muddy earth surrounding him.**

"**You son of a bitch," Dean spat at him, trying his damnedest to not run out of air. What was perhaps the worst thing of all was how healthy Sam looked. His skin was nearly golden in its brightness, and his usual long locks were trimmed short and tight against his head. He had the faintest hint of stubble, and he wore a crisp white suit with a cream button-down and blood-red tie. His dress shoes, despite treading mud, remained clean. In all their years of hunting, Dean had never seen such a glow from his younger brother, ever.**

**Yet his eyes were still dead and cold. Even the vibrant smile Sam wore was perverted by that stare. "You look like hell, Dean. Though, I suppose hell looks pretty good right now." He giggled, enjoying his joke. He loosened his grip on Dean's neck and twisted it to the side rather roughly, observing the several cuts and bruises he had gathered over time. "I don't know if I like your pretty flesh being so sullied, or what." He pulled Dean's face towards him. His hot breath tickled Dean's lips.**

"**Get away from me." Dean threw his hand back and hit Sam full in the face. Of course, it did nothing but bruise Dean's knuckles. In response, Sam threw Dean straight and hard into the ground. A bone crunched into the mud; the older Winchester wasn't sure which one, but he was sure he'd find out in a few minutes. **

**Castiel struggled against his binds, hexed all over with angel-trapping runes as Sam giggled upon hearing Dean's bone crack. He kneeled in the mud, yet his suit remained unstained. Dean was about to pull his gun on him when Sam gathered his hands above his head in an unyielding grip and crawled on top of him in the mud. Before Dean could comprehend what was happening, Sam's lips pressed against his older brother's. They were full of hunger, and gathered up every droplet of sweat and saliva from Dean's. Dean could do nothing but lay there as Sam pressed his tongue between his teeth and attacked his mouth.**

**Upon pulling away, Dean whimpered in anger and confusion. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, tearing up. The lust with which Sam had kissed him had obviously come from Lucifer, but it was being delivered through Sam's body. It was disgusting.**

"**Oh, believe me Dean, I could care less about sex," he replied, sounding almost bored. "However, what better way to torture someone than to have them be taken by their own relative? It's such a simple, but devastating little idea, don't you think?"**

**With that, Sam began to undo the zipper on Dean's trousers. **

**Castiel screamed, and, with all of his limited strength, ripped the hexed ropes from the post. They sizzled against his skin, but he pulled him from his flesh and wrapped them around the throats of the angel Disciples. While they choked on their own blood, Castiel ripped a sword from one of them and drove it into the skull of one, and the chest of another. They dropped like flies in the mud as hollow vessels. Castiel lunged at Sam, sword in hand. Sam, who cared little about the annihilation of his subordinates, turned and caught the point of the blade in his palm. It shattered, the pieces flying into Castiel's body. Like shrapnel, it stuck into his flesh and caused crippling pain to flood his body. A few more feathers floated from nowhere and drowned in the muck. **

**Lucifer chuckled, wiping some of the sword's residue off of his hand. "You're losing your wings, Castiel. Little by little…it's a shame. What's an angel that cannot fly?"**

"**Leave us," Castiel rasped. "Just go, please, Lucifer. We understand your intentions. We will stop trying to kill your Disciples."**

**The Devil merely let out another one of his disturbing giggles. "Do you think I care if you kill the Disciples or not? I have destroyed Michael. Our Father is gone. I own the earth. It's much more entertaining for me to see how humanity lives without their Savior to help them. After thousands of years of progress, suddenly they revert back to accepting what were once called sins: slavery, genocide, cannibalism…in four short years. And the angels, who know how to only follow; now they attempt to fight for freedom? The irony of it all kills me."**

**He turned back to Dean. "You, my boy, you are a special case. The Michael who never was. No, you let Adam take that burden from you. And I broke him." For the first time, he sounded pained. A single tear fell down his cheek. "My brother. I could have fought him in the proper vessel, but instead, he was forced to a disadvantage because of you. And you know I will never forgive you for that." Sam pulled Dean up out of the mud—**

—**and onto a silk bed.**

**Dean scrambled up, hyperventilating from the shock. Instead of the dirty hellhole where they had found themselves in, Dean and Castiel were now in an elaborate bedchamber. The ceiling was thirty feet high, with a chandelier that glimmered in the moonlight pouring in from the high windows. Illustrious paintings and tapestries ranging from Giorgione to Andy Warhol lined the rosewood walls. A long table, where Castiel was sitting, stretched along the center of the chamber. Bowls overflowing with peaches, plums, pears, grapes, and cherries were laid across the black-and-gold tablecloth; a decanter of wine peaked out from behind one.**

"**Where are we?" Dean called to him, his low voice echoing through the chamber.**

"**I assume Lucifer has transported us to his castle," Castiel replied. When he moved to stand, however, Sam manifested next to him. He placed a hand on the lesser angel's shoulder and pushed him back into the seat. **

"**Little angel," he crooned, "don't be hasty. I've prepared quite a feast for us." He picked up a goblet of wine and held it to Castiel's lips. "Do drink up."**

**Castiel began to protest. "I don't—"**

**Unable to stop him, Sam grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back, pouring the wine into his throat. Castiel choked in surprise, sputtering up some of the sweet, red liquid. Sam giggled and moved his lips towards Castiel. His tongue flicked against the wine that had dropped onto his neck. Castiel's eyes widened; he looked towards Dean, bewildered. Dean crawled off the bed silently, and noticed an ebony knife sitting on the bed-stand. He grabbed it and slinked towards them while Sam kissed Castiel's neck, nibbling and sucking on his flesh. Castiel clearly could not move, otherwise he would have torn Sam's face off in retaliation.**

"**Stop," Castiel asked firmly. "This is wrong. We are brothers—"**

"**You are not my brother," Sam hissed, pulling away from the lesser angel. "You are too weak to be my brother. You are losing your wings. I can't even make you a Disciple. Still, you did go against God, like I. Perhaps that is why I like you. Dean, don't even try it."**

**Dean froze behind them. He was holding the knife in an attacking position. Sam waved his hand, and the dagger rushed towards Castiel.**

"**Cass!" Dean yelled as the point penetrated Castiel's flesh. He let out a hoarse scream as it pushed straight through him and out the other side, racing back to its spot on the bed-side table. Miraculously, there was no blood.**

"**It isn't a physical weapon," Sam explained with amusement, feeling Castiel thrash with pain under his hand. "It penetrates your soul and cuts it up a little. Of course, angels don't have souls, so it just nicks their essence. I'd say it's even worse for them," he observed, letting Castiel go and watching him collapse on the table.**

"**You piece of shit," Dean spat.**

"**Your vocabulary of insults is severely limited, I'm sorry to say," Sam remarked nonchalantly. He then picked Dean up, threw him across the room and onto the bed. **

**Before Dean could jump off again, Sam was on top of him once more, both of their shoes discarded on the ground. He tore open Sam's sweater, revealing a smooth chest littered with scars. Sam giggled, tracing a few of the scars. "I remember these," he said. Out of nowhere, his voice was soft and gentle, like Sam's used to be. "This one was from that rugaru in South Dakota." He poked a circular scar on his upper pelvic bone. "I accidentally gave you this one. Glue guns against shapeshifters? Not the best idea we had." He laughed. It was simultaneously musical and cacophonous. It made Dean's head pound. **

**Sam put his face close to Dean's chest. "Big brother," he whispered, sounding frightened, "What's wrong with me?"**

**Dean knew better than to fall for that. "Dammit, Lucifer, that isn't going to work on me. I know that's not Sam."**

**Sam looked crushed. "Dean, how could you call me that…that devil? I'd never hurt you, not ever." He licked Dean's chest with a cold tongue. Dean gasped. "Big brother," Sam whined, "he's making me do these awful things. I'm so sorry." And with that, he shoved his hand down Dean's jeans, breaking the zipper. Dean choked back a shriek as he felt Sam's hand wrap around his cock.**

A sharp pain shot through Dean's hand. He had accidentally crushed the beer bottle in his hand. "Fuck," he swore, shaking the glass out of his fingers. He opened the first aid kit in the kitchen. Of course, it was empty. Dean took one of the many pistols from the room, said a quick incantation at the door, and stepped outside into the woods. The nice part about this part of the country was that Lucifer had left it alone, and trees still grew. Perhaps he appreciated beauty, perhaps he just didn't care; nonetheless, Dean was grateful for it. He'd rather trip over pinecones and acorns than dead bodies and piles of ash.

He headed to the storeroom a mile away. It seemed stupid to spread the supplies out, but Dean knew from experience that putting all the eggs in one basket would mean losing everything. It had happened to him and Bobby more times than he cared to count. Vigilant of everything around him, Dean made sure to note the movements in the trees; by now, he could tell what was animal, what was human, and what was not good. Nothing was a threat to him. Enjoying the peaceful walk, he took his time heading to the storehouse. His hand dripped blood, but no Croatoans were around to be a danger. He finally hit his location. It, like the cabin, was also covered roof to ground in wards. Dean muttered an incantation before stepping inside. He did not feel like being blown apart tonight.

The room wasn't well-lit, but Dean knew where the flashlight was. He turned it on, illuminating the small room. It had most likely been somebody's tool shed once, but now it was just a place for Dean and Bobby to keep the stuff they didn't think should be at the house in large amounts. Food cans, gasoline, more weapons, barrels of salt, and water jugs were neatly lined up on the shelves and the floor. The hunter made his way to the back of the shed and opened up a broken locker, pulling out a fresh first aid kit they had raided from an overturned ambulance a few weeks ago. He cracked it open and pulled out some gauze. He ripped a piece off with his teeth and was about to wrap it around his hand when he heard a tree branch snap outside.

Dean froze, and switched off his flashlight. Croatoans were attracted to blood and light, and he was a source of both. Drawing his gun, he crept up to the door as quietly as possible. Croatoans were a tricky lot, being immune to all magical wards except ones that blew your brains out, and Dean did not fancy being caught in a magical explosion. With bated breath, he made his way to the door. A little hole had rotted through a board in the wood, so Dean put his eye to it, trying to see through the inky night. There was nothing, at first. Then, something blocked the hole, and whatever that was began to knock at the door.

Dean jumped back, pulling out his gun. A voice drifted towards him. "Dean? Are you in there? Dean?" It was low, with a bit of a natural growl.

Dean sighed, wiped his forehead, and threw open the door, temporarily disarming the angel ward. "Dammit, Cass. Don't do that to me. Thought you were a freakin' Croatoan ready to chomp on my brains."

The angel cocked his head slightly, puzzled. "Croatoans are not capable of being 'ready'. They act on instinct."

Once again having to deal with the angel's complete lack of acuteness towards sarcasm, the hunter rolled his eyes. "I swear, five years we've been livin' in this hell-hole, and you still don't get it when I'm not serious."

Castiel stared at him, clearly not understanding why he was so worked up. In the four years Castiel had been thrown out of Heaven after its virtual destruction, he had become more human, but not enough of one. He had lost his signature khaki trenchcoat in the attack, and decided that a suit was not the most practical attire to wear in a post-apocalyptic world. He now wore a black wool sweater, thick and tight-fitting, over a green-collared shirt with faded denim jeans that were tucked into black worker boots. His hair was still short and somewhat upswept in the front, and he continued to sport a five-o'clock shadow. However, he was extremely pale, with dark circles under his eyes—he was weaker now, and traveling by air was tough for him. Dean did not have the privilege of seeing his full set of wings, but he knew that he was shedding, and growing back his feathers was a long and unpleasant process.

Nonetheless, the angel always ended up by Dean's side, no matter where in the world he had to depart from to get there. "You're bleeding."

"What? Oh." Dean had forgotten about his cuts. He had dropped the gauze on the floor. Turning his flashlight back on, he searched for it. "Dammit, where did it go?"

Castiel held out his hand. "I presume you are looking for this?" he asked, holding the gauze.

"Thanks." The hunter went to reach for it, but a splitting pain in his hand stopped it. "Ah, fuck," he uttered quietly, the cuts burning.

Castiel took his hand tenderly in his own. "Allow me," he said, unraveling some of the gauze. He ripped a large piece off and wrapped it around Dean's hand, carefully moving it whenever he needed to. Dean watched him, somewhat surprised. The angel usually despaired when people were hurt, because it reminded him that he could no longer heal anyone. Dean was flattered that Castiel was helping him. "It's not too tight, I hope," Castiel murmured.

"Not at all," Dean replied. "Thanks, Cass."

"You are welcome."

They exchanged glances. Castiel's steel-blue eyes were hardened, but not rigid. Dean felt safer seeing his reflection in them than he had in a long time. The look they shared was a morose understanding of what evil was. They both knew it all too well.

**Castiel roared angrily, trying to rip himself away from his chair. Dean was fully naked on the bed, exposed to a voracious and hungry Sam as he licked every inch of his body, starting at the lips and ending at his cock. Dean's eyes watered from fear, disgust, and rage as he felt his younger brother's icy lips wrap around his member, which grew thick and full in his mouth despite his best attempts. Sam looked up at him with those rotten, ghoulish eyes that betrayed his pleasure as he sucked at the dark flesh of Dean's cock, licking the head and squeezing it in between his teeth just for a touch of pain mixed with delight. Sam forced himself down on every inch of Dean, which would have choked anyone with a gag reflex. Dean cried out in unwanted pleasure, gripping the sheets and tearing holes into the blanket. "S-Sam…for fuck's sake, please…stop…" he gasped out as Sam bobbed up and down on his cock. "Lucifer, you son of a bitch…"**

**For a second, Sam pulled himself up and looked at his brother lustily, licking his licks of pre-cum and sweat. "Big brother, I love you. I want you to see that." He let out one of his infamously frigid giggles and plunged his lips back down over Dean's dick, swirling his tongue around the entire length before going back to taking it all in, the head brushing against the walls of Sam's throat.**

**Dean moaned, upset and confused, crying. "Stop touching me. Stop it, you little fuck. Goddammit, STOP!" he screamed, beginning to seize with ecstasy. **

**Sam looked up at Dean. He took his mouth off once again. "Okay," he said simply.**

"**Wha—"**

**Sam was sitting next to him, his suit jacket on the floor and his shirt unbuttoned, but he felt someone else's mouth on his cock. Before he had the chance to move, he seized again and pleasure rippled through his body. He felt himself letting go, and he released, filling up the stranger's mouth with his seed. He shuddered and fell limp into the bed, twitching and letting out soft moans as Sam caressed his chest, giggling. Immediately, he felt the mouth leave his cock, and he heard someone choking and spitting. His heart sank, recognizing the guttural tones of the other person.**

**Sam leaned forward and grabbed Castiel by the hair, lifting him up. His lips were sticky from both the wine from earlier and Dean's cum, which dripped from his mouth and down his shirt. His arm was also covered in it from his attempts to clean it off of him. "This little pet of mine," Sam said in an almost sing-song voice, "will join us."**

"**No. No, leave Cass out of this!" Dean yelled, shaking still from his orgasm. "He has nothing to do with this. Let him go!"**

"**But, Dean," the Devil said tauntingly, "you told me****to stop touching you. So I did." He pulled Castiel into his lap and onto the stiff member that was straining against his suit pants. Castiel, who was still in shock, did nothing as Sam began to kiss him roughly, licking up cum around his lips and biting him on the neck. He left bruises and thick red marks all over his neck and shoulders. Castiel suddenly pushed Sam in the face, jerking him away roughly. Sam turned back towards him and shook his head. "Oh, Castiel. Always the rebellious little one." He dug his fingers into Castiel's shirt and twisted hard, ripping it clean off. The angel was smooth-skinned, but not particularly well-built—after all, his strength came not from his body.**

"**This is wrong," Castiel sputtered as Sam began to pull away his jeans. "You cannot do this. I am not made for this. I—"**

"**You talk too much," the Devil replied, putting a hand over the angel's mouth as he freed his legs from the jeans. Castiel was not wearing underwear. Dean tried to throw a blanket over Castiel to cover him, but Sam ripped the cover out from under them and tossed it to the side. Dean was too protective of him. He knew the angel was a virgin, and he did not want his first time to be this way.**

**Sam pulled Castiel on top of him and began to grind against him while rubbing his fingers along his cock. Dean could not move, and shook with anger as he watched his friend being used. Sam gave him an amused glance when Castiel began to stiffen. "I knew you'd get there," he said proudly. With that, he threw Castiel down and flipped him over.**

"**Lucifer. Do not do this. Leave me be. You've proven your point. Let us go," Castiel begged, his face being pushed into the sheets by the fallen angel.**

**Paying no mind, Sam undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Sam bellowed for him to stop, but it was hopeless. Sam positioned himself, licking two fingers and slipping them into Castiel. Castiel screamed in confusion and fear, thrashing. "Struggling does nothing," Sam said with boredom, thrusting his fingers deep into the lesser angel while keeping his head crushed against the bed. Dean tried to look away, but he couldn't. "Oh, you're watching the whole thing, big brother," Sam hissed with pleasure.**

**Castiel began to whimper, clutching the pillow above him and ripping it to shreds from pure fear. Sam withdrew his fingers and moved his own cock towards Castiel's opening. **

"**Dammit, no, anything but that, just stop…" Dean begged, watching his younger brother slip his plumped cock into Castiel, who was anything but prepared for it.**

**Sam moaned a little. "I may not care for sex, but I do enjoy it when it happens," he remarked, giggling and beginning to thrust into Castiel, rough and hard. Castiel moaned in pain, feeling a burn inside him and a violation of his very self. He almost broke down, but chose to listen to his rushed, quick breaths as a distraction from the pain and strange pleasure that he felt from this assault.**

**Suddenly, Dean was free to move. However, he could do nothing but what Sam's guidance demanded. His lips found their way around Castiel's back. He left marks all over him, while Sam continued to push his cock deep into the lesser angel's opening. Castiel was sweating profusely, and whispering to himself while obviously trying not to cry.**

**Sam pulled out of Castiel rather unceremoniously, and took Dean's shoulder. "Your turn," he said joyfully, forcing Dean on top of Castiel.**

"**What? No—" But he had slipped in. His cock penetrated Castiel deeply; he couldn't control it. Castiel screamed again, and Dean began to rock back and forth in his tight hole. The pleasure of that grip was intense; he almost came from the sheer experience. He moaned loudly, shivering with anxiety and need. **

**He felt Sam move on top of him. Knowing what was coming, he braced himself as he continued to move inside Castiel. Sam's cock, slick with pre-cum, slid inside Dean. They both moaned loudly as Castiel whimpered underneath the two of them, being crushed in the bed.**

"**Dean, you're so easy to move in," Sam hissed in his brother's ear, biting it playfully, "Almost like you've done this before."**

"**Fuck you," Dean spat, his hands around Castiel's chest, running his fingers all along the angel's silky flesh.**

"**Poor choice of words," Sam said, laughter spilling from his lips like a waterfall. He buried his fingers deep in Dean's hair and forced him back, licking his exposed throat as he rode against Dean with fury and fervor. Dean's cries mingled with Sam's and Castiel's as the trio fell on their side; Sam fucking Dean deeply, and Dean thrusting into a defeated Castiel. The air was thick with sex as they writhed all over each other. Sam left scratches all over Dean's chest, and Castiel was drooling on the pillow from the bliss he felt from having Dean's hot member pulsing inside his tight walls.**

**Castiel was the first to cum, letting out a loud, strangled cry as he shot his load into the bed, covering the sheets with the sticky seed and covering his belly. He slackened, breathing loudly and irregularly, as Dean continued to force his cock deep into him. His fingers brushed over Castiel's half-limp member, causing the angel to flinch. He gathered up some of the cum and traced a circle around Castiel's lips. The angel opened them and sucked his own cum from Dean's fingers. Sam giggled, pushing Dean down on top of Castiel roughly. Dean began to pulse, and, knowing he couldn't control it, whispered to Castiel, "I'm sorry, Cass."**

**The angel yelled out when he felt Dean's seed filling him up. He shook, and Dean trembled from Sam's icy touch. Dean pulled out of Castiel, cum dripping from his member, and fell on top of him. Sam pushed Castiel to the side, letting him calm down on his own while Sam flipped his older brother over. **

**Dean was afraid of having to look him in the face, but he did. Sam's eyes burned with satisfaction, pleasure, and sadism as he watched his brother's face contort with pleasure. He bent forward, holding his hips tightly as he continued to thrust. His lips met Dean's, and they shared a sloppy kiss. When they pulled apart, a thread of saliva connected the two. Dean felt Sam pulse inside him hotly. He grimaced. **

**Sam pulled out and began to jerk his cock in front of Dean. "Open your mouth," he commanded.**

**Dean complied meekly, but Sam did not move any closer. He seized, moaned, and came onto Dean—all over. His chest was covered in it, his face, his mouth, his cock. Dean closed his eyes when it happened, only knowing it had when he felt the bitter and slimy taste of cum coat his tongue. He swallowed quickly and wiped the rest off, gasping for air. He felt so weak.**

**Sam stood up, watching the two defeated men twitch pathetically on the bed. He smiled, and donned a silk robe that was hanging on a bedpost. "Rest assured," he said, moving to the table and plucking a grape, "that I am not above anything if it makes you know how so hopeless you are." He ate the grape and crossed over to the men, carrying two cherries. He sat back down on the bed. "Open your mouths, boys." They did so, and he carefully placed a cherry in each one. "When you are finished eating that cherry, you will be back at that nest. And I will not see you for a long time, or God help you, you will suffer worse than you did tonight."**

"Dean?" Castiel asked with worry, watching his human friend tear up.

"Oh, Cass," Dean replied, pulling him into him. "I'm so sorry."

Castiel did not respond. Dean sobbed into his sweater, feeling cold and scared. After a moment, Dean felt arms wrap around him. He was flooded with warmth.

"Do not apologize. I failed to protect you," Castiel replied, choking up.

They stood in the dark of the warehouse, crying. A bird flew overhead and chirped joyously. It was morning.

**X - X**

Hello everyone!

It's been a while, I know. I graduated college, for one thing—that's how long it's been! Anyway, I've really been into _Supernatural _lately. I think it's a wonderful bit of writing, and I just love the characters. I couldn't resist writing this fanfic; I wanted to make sure my writing skills didn't get rusty.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Please be sure to leave a comment and some constructive criticism if you feel like offering it. Thank you for reading.

~JadeCrescent Fallen


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